


Join the Dance

by pixie_rings



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe - Human, Anthropomorphic, Community: rotg_kink, M/M, Otherkin, questionable science, tw: homophobic slurs, tw: transphobic slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2017-12-27 05:17:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/974862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aster is trapped in the body of a species he doesn’t want. Jack will remain by his side every step of the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of an alternate contemporary universe. Pop culture is exactly the same, but genetic manipulation is commonplace and people can choose to become anthropomorphised versions of animals they feel a special bond to. Yes, I realise this is a strange premise, but it felt right to write this, for some reason. Bear with me.
> 
> Also, chapter fic. We'll see how this goes.

_The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance._  
\- Alan Watts 

.

They’ve been together three years.

Which means it’s taken three years for Aster to pluck up the courage to say these things.

He sits Jack on the armchair while he takes the couch, leaning forward like he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders. Which he does, Jack supposes, as he listens.

Aster, usually so confident and smooth, keeps his gaze lowered. His voice cracks several times, he stumbles and stammers and rubs his face, drawing in shuddering breaths as he confesses what probably seems to him like a deep, dark secret. How his body’s always felt wrong, really, and he’s tried to make what he has work, but it’s not who he feels he is inside. It’s only once he’s finished, trailing off into a tense silence, that he raises his head and looks at Jack. Dear God, his expression is like a kick to the stomach.

Aster’s staring at him like he’s expecting him to bolt at any minute. Like he’s expecting insults or rebuttals or even just an incredulous look. But all Jack can think of is _why_ that expression is there. Jack knows Aster’s been with other men. He’s thirty-four, of course he’s been with other men, some more long-term than others. How many others has Aster confessed this to, and how many times has he been left because of it? How could anyone leave the person they love because of this? This is Aster, _his_ Aster, the shape of his body means nothing.

Jack leans forward, places his hand on Aster’s. He can feel the clenched fist trembling, the muscles of his arms stiff, his jaw tensed for disgust and ridicule.

“It’s ok,” he murmurs, smiling, trying to communicate all the deep affection, the profound love he feels for the other man. He notices Aster relax slightly, seem to deflate, and he runs a hand down his face again, weary.

“I’ll understand if you want to leave,” he says, and Jack’s horrified by how pained and hollow it sounds. This _has_ happened before, and all Jack wants to do is hunt down every single one of Aster’s exes and kick their asses.

“Why would I want to leave?” Jack asks, appalled Aster would even think that. Aster blinks, and it’s clear that what he’s not saying is ‘it’s what everyone else did’. Jack squeezes his hand until Aster unclenches his fist and threads their fingers together.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says fiercely, reaching out his other hand to cup Aster’s cheek. To his surprise, his normally stoic boyfriend’s eyes are wet. Jack’s presses their foreheads together, kisses him, cradles him as Aster breaks down, holding Jack tightly as if his whole world hinged on Jack remaining there, with him. And perhaps it does, but it doesn’t matter, because Jack’s _not_ going _anywhere_.

.

He sees them. There aren’t a huge number, but they live in a fairly large city, so he sees a few every day. It’d be hard not to notice them: cat people, dog people, wolves, foxes, tigers, lions, mice, rabbits, birds, reptiles… Jack’s never been bothered by them. There’s still enough latent homophobia in society that he’s tasted discrimination himself once or twice, and there’s his hair, too, proof of the dangerous fashion for foetal genetic manipulation that happened twenty-something years ago before it was completely outlawed. Proof of how his parents put him in danger despite knowing the risks. They learnt their lesson with his sister, but it was too late for Jack. People still look at him oddly because of his hair being the snowy white that it is, thinking he’s unhinged, dangerous. Wrong.

He knows they get that too, but worse.

They call it species dysphoria. The technical term is transspecies. The casual term is anthro, or otherkin. The derogatory term… there are a few, but like tranny, faggot and dyke, the world seems to love furry, although half-breed, dog-fucker and furfag are popular too. They can try to reclaim it all they want, but it still stings when it’s yelled in the street by teenaged morons. It still hurts when it’s bellowed by religious bigots. Now he knows why Aster flinches at the news, sometimes. He might not have the shape he wants, not yet, but he still is one of them, and can Jack can understand the pain when he sees and reads about… things Jack doesn’t want to remember.

Well, Jack’s going to be with him every step of the way. And the first thing he needs to do is a bit of studying.

The internet, as always, is far more useful than real life, so he starts from there. He goes on forums, reads articles and downloads pdf documents. And, of course, there’s the porn.

It’s a popular enough genre to have its famed actors and actresses, although he notices that mostly it’s kept in a tight circle. Species usually keep to themselves, and even when they don’t, there’s one crucial factor that ties them all… There are no humans in these films.

Something in him, around his navel, gives an apprehensive tug, and he heads to a safe haven: fandom. Given the startlingly low representation in the media, writers and artists take their characters, one or both, and turn them. It’s no different from genderbending or humanising animal characters, Jack supposes. He flicks through his fandoms, cocking his head at an interesting fic where House Stark are all direwolves, reading through Avengers AUs and anthro!Toothless kink meme prompts. He’s glad fandom seems to be a lot more accepting than society, but he should know to expect that by now.

By the time he turns off the computer, he thinks he needs to talk with Aster a bit more. They’re responsible (enough) adults, they need to discuss this openly. It’s not going to be an elephant in the room between them, both ignoring it and hoping it goes away, because it’s not. And Jack’s not about to give up.

.

“I’m curious,” he begins over dinner. Aster raises an eyebrow, licking chilli sauce off his fingers. Jack got tacos on the way home from work.

“Oh?” he prompts.

“Um… is it rude to ask what animal you are?” Jack asks nervously. When Aster remains silent for a long time, Jack gets scared he’s fucked up. Is that how you ask? Is there some special term or something, some protocol he’s forgotten to adhere to? It’s a relief when Aster answers.

“Nah, Frostbite. A rabbit.”

Well, he hadn’t been expecting that. Not even with Aster’s last name. If Jack had had to venture a guess, he would have thought something more… predatory, like a wolf.

“Really?” he can’t help but ask. Aster leans back with a laugh.

“Yeah, I know. To be honest I found it weird myself. But… it just fit.”

Jack tries to imagine what Aster would be like as a rabbit. The mental image isn’t really working for him.

“So… have you thought about the…” How was it worded again? “Thing.” He’s forgotten. Luckily they’ve been living together for a year and a half, and Aster can practically read his mind by now.

“I’ve thought about it, yeah,” he admits. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I want it to happen, but, God, it’s terrifying.” He takes a long drink of his beer. Jack commiserates. “I guess I just wanted to have something secure before I started anything.” He looks very pointedly at Jack when he says that, and Jack blushes slightly. As if reading each other’s thoughts, they both reach out to take the other’s hand, squeeze, smile gently. Jack muses that one day the hand holding his won’t be a hand, but a paw.

It doesn’t matter, because Aster trusts him, loves him, and Jack loves him back. That’s more than enough for them.

.

He’s sitting in the waiting room. He took a day off work to go with Aster, because Aster needs all the support he can get with his family on the other side of the world, and Jack’s going to be there for him. He flicks through scientific and gossip magazines, but he can’t seem to take in the words. He plays a few rounds of Candy Crush Saga on his phone, but after losing three times because of really stupid moves, he gives up. He resigns himself to staring at the wall as his leg jerks nervously, arms folded and lip chewed to pieces.

There’s only one other person waiting, and he assumes the person she’s waiting for is in the other doctor’s office, seeing as she was already there when they came in. She raises her head from her magazine and smiles gently.

“First time?” she asks. Jack nods with a sheepish grin. She gives him a sympathetic look. “I’ve been here quite a few times,” she goes on. “For my daughter. It takes a long time for the paperwork to be ready, all the psychological assessments and things like that… they’re very thorough. Is it a friend or a family member?”

Jack shakes his head. “Nah, it’s my boyfriend.”

The woman’s expression changes in an instant. It goes from understanding to hard and closed off, and the transformation is rather abrupt and quite scary. “I see,” she says coldly, and turns back to her magazine.

Well, that was sudden.

He’s glad when a young woman comes out of the other office and leaves with the other woman. He doesn’t really want to be in the same room with that swirling pocket of distaste. He hasn’t felt this judged in ages, not since he came out to his parents, and hadn’t _that_ gone well?

Eventually, after Jack’s inner turmoil mounts to a fever pitch, Aster leaves the doctor’s office with a handshake and some reassuring words. Jack stands, and the doctor looks at him curiously. The look goes ignored and the door closes.

Aster lets out a sigh and grins wearily. “That went well,” he says, and Jack smiles. He takes Aster’s hand as they leave the office, ignoring everyone else in the world.

“What did he say?” he asks, sincerely curious. Aster shrugs.

“Talked to me about the whole thing. Like when it started, how it started, what I felt… It was like going to a shrink.” He wrinkles his nose at that. “Then he told me about all the psychological tests they have to do, all the physical tests and genetic tests and… it’s not just walking in one day and coming out someone different the next.”

“Yeah?” Ok, Jack will freely admit that’s kind of what he was thinking it was. A simple jaunt in a genetic manipulation chamber and Aster would waltz out a six-foot rabbit. …Now that really thinks about it, it does sound pretty dumb.

“Yeah, there’s rehabilitation and physio and instinct suppression classes… It’s a lot harder than it seemed.” Aster runs a hand through his hair with a huff.

“You’re still going to go through with it, though?”

Aster looks at him. It’s a worried look, a doubtful look, and Jack wipes it off with a kiss in the middle of a busy street.

“This is what you want,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere.” He’s going to keep saying it until Aster never doubts him or what they have ever again.

“Yeah, I’m going to go through with it,” Aster says with a firm nod. He looks at his hand, the one that’s not holding Jack’s, as if it’s something that doesn’t belong to him. As if he’s longed to see something other than fingers and a thumb and smooth, dark skin his entire life. “I’ve been waiting for it for most of my life, and now I think I’ve got the balls to go through with it.”

Jack smiles, they fall into step again, and through the hum of traffic and the buzz of electronics, they walk home.

.

The first real step to take is learning more about what you’re going to become, apparently. Aster already had enough books on rabbits to fill a mobile library (Jack had always wondered about that, since he moved in), so that’s already checked on the list. Jack takes to reading them himself, curious about it, about how rabbits behave. The biting he can deal with, he already likes that, but…

“If you _ever_ pee on me, I’m dumping you,” he says one day, waving the book in Aster’s face. Aster looks up from his sketchbook with an expression that might suggest he worries about Jack’s sanity.

“Not into watersports,” he says, deadpan. Jack harrumphs, sliding onto the arm of the chair Aster’s lounging in.

“It says here rabbits pee on their mates,” he says, and if it comes out a little whiny, well, it’s justified. Golden showers are definitely not on Jack’s list of kinks. Aster bursts out laughing.

“Ah, bollocks, as if I’d do that!” he says, dragging Jack into his lap and kissing him. Sometimes, Jack wonders how their sex life is going to change. It’s always been healthy, and Jack’s always, well… Aster’s kind of a dreamboat, all broad shoulders, long legs and hard muscles and everything anyone attracted to men could want. How will this change what they have? Will they even be able to…? Will he be able to…?

Jack pulls away from the kiss, buries his face in Aster’s neck.

“Something wrong?” the Australian asks, running a worried hand down Jack’s slim back. Jack shakes his head, kisses Aster’s hot, dark skin, breathes in the scent of paint, chocolate and sandalwood.

“Nothing,” he murmurs. “Nothing at all.” He hides his doubts, smothers them with hope, because he has to believe this can work whatever. They’re each the only thing the other has, and Jack has to believe that this won’t break them.

.

The next step is telling their friends. It’s done over a dinner, rigorously cooked by Aster because Jack isn’t really good at anything that goes beyond grilled cheese or scrambled eggs. Kozmotis brought the wine, of course, North the dessert, and they wait until that, when they’re mollified by full stomachs and at least a bottle of red burgundy between them to take it perhaps marginally better.

They needn’t have worried.

“So, you’re a freak?” Kozmotis asks, in that silky, sarcastic way of his. He’s giving Aster a certain look over the rim of his glass, with a little smirk that shows there’s no real insult in his words at all. That’s what Kozmotis does.

“And you’re a dickhead,” Aster replies with a roll of his eyes. Sandy smacks his husband’s arm and gives Aster a concerned look.

 _Are you sure about this?_ he signs. Aster nods.

“We’ve already talked about it,” he says, giving Sandy a reassuring smile.

“You’re staying together?” Kozmotis asks, mildly impressed. Jack and Aster exchange a look.

“Got a problem?” Aster says, eyes narrowing. Kozmotis snorts.

“As if I would ever,” he scoffs, waving a hand.

What Jack is surprised at, however, is that North has remained silent during this entire conversation. He looks at the Russian, normally so loud and boisterous, and is taken aback by the thoughtfully look on his face, the slight frown and the pensive stroking of his short beard.

“North?” he murmurs. The Russian smiles absently.

“I have… been seeing someone,” he says. “She is… well, you should meet her.”

“What’s _that_ got to do with anything?” Kozmotis asks, folding his arms and giving North a very unimpressed look. Kozmotis is very good at those. Sandy glares at him and smiles at North encouragingly.

_What’s her name? What’s she like?_

“Her name is Tiana, but everyone calls her Tooth,” North says. “And I think… Well, you’ll see when you meet her.”

.

Tiana “call me Tooth!” Saphēdamōti is the strangest woman Jack has ever met.

She’s hyper, cheerful, friendly, and obsessed with dental hygiene. She also keeps piles and piles of scrapbooks and photo albums, for the memories, apparently. She breeds hummingbirds and, according to North, makes a killer curry. But that’s not what’s most unusual.

She’s covered from head to toe in beautiful, iridescent feathers. They shimmer in the light when she moves, like gems, greens and blues and purples mostly, with bright gold at her wrists, ankles and neck. From her back sprout delicate hummingbird wings, and she never seems to land except to sit. She hovers everywhere, her wings buzzing softly. She’s very dainty, always smiling and bubbly, like a ray of sunshine, and maybe she’s got a strong dose of ADHD, but it doesn’t matter, because she’s awesome and she and North are a perfect match.

They met while fencing, and Jack is so very unsurprised. The looks they give each other are as soppy as anything, and Jack hopes he and Aster don’t act like that. It would be sincerely embarrassing.

However… it’s her backstory that’s most important to Jack and Aster. She welcomes them into her home, and is immediately understanding of Aster and Jack and their relationship, even though Aster won’t have a human form anymore.

After she has sat them down and made them tea, she picks out an older photo album. And one photo explains everything.

“My mother was a hummingbird anthro,” she says, smiling at fond memories, and a picture of a woman with blurry wings, feathers, a beak, hovering, on the arm of a human man. They look very much in love . “And my father was human. I was the result. Oh, how my grandparents hated their marriage, and me. It was an arranged marriage, you see, but before the wedding my mother had her species change, and it was called off. My parents didn’t care, they eloped, it was so romantic.” Tooth sighs dreamily. “We moved to America, but it didn’t get any better. My parents were shunned for their relationship, he couldn’t keep a job when they found out my mother was an anthro. School was hell. I was always the bird freak.

“It was so hard to find a job, even though I was the best student in my field on the entire East Coast. No one wants a hybrid.” She looks at them, gives them an encouraging smile. “Fight for what you have, because it won’t be easy. There will be people who want to take everything from you, people who jeer and scorn, and try to hurt you. But you have each other.”

Jack takes Aster’s hand, entwines their fingers. Aster smiles at him, and then looks back to Tooth with a nod.

After that, she becomes part of their small circle of friends, literally hovering next to North. Jack can’t understand how anyone could hate her because of what she is, because she’s one of the sweetest people he’s ever encountered. It makes him all the more resolute to stick with Aster to the bitter end.

.

It takes another two months of doctor’s appointments, support groups and _so many_ tests before Aster can begin preparations for the change itself. They’re lucky it’s Kozmotis that does the psychological assessment, because he knows Aster so well, and they know they can trust him. The date looms ever closer, large and imposing, and in their apartment hangs a mingled air of anticipation and anxiety. Aster’s fuse is shorter than usual, Jack’s twitchy, and whenever their friends come round the atmosphere’s always terribly heavy. Sandy and Tooth try to cheer them up, North tries to take them out, but they have too little patience and too much worry in their minds.

The night before Aster’s due to go into hospital, Jack can’t sleep. He sits on the sofa, arms wrapped around himself, staring at the wall. What if it’s not him, it’s Aster? What if Aster doesn’t feel attracted to him anymore? What if his tastes change, if Jack’s not… what he wants?

He’s terrified. Because Aster’s all he has, all he’s had for years now, the only person he can truly call family. The only person he _wants_ to call family. What would he do if Aster didn’t want him anymore?

He rubs at his eyes, sucking in a sob he can’t quite control, and it’s only the creaky floorboard that alerts him.

“Love?”

Aster hardly ever calls him that, only when he’s worried. Jack doesn’t look at him, turns his head away to hide his watery eyes. Aster, ever stubborn, is never one to take rebuttal, and sits beside Jack, clad in only his boxers, because that’s how he always sleeps. Jack rubs his arms, hunched over himself, and he sniffs. He can’t help it.

“It’s supposed to be the other way around,” Aster says, a delicate hint of amusement in his voice. He winds a strong arm around Jack’s shoulders, pulls him closer, and Jack lets go. He sobs into his hands, into a cushion he grabs to muffle the sounds. And through it all, Aster sits there, holding Jack close, cradling him.

Jack knows perfectly well he’s being selfish, but he truly has no one apart from Aster. He was at such a low point, nowhere to go and nobody to turn to, when Aster appeared, bringing new hope into a life that didn’t seem to have anything left to give. Aster could see him when he was invisible and held his arms open when Jack was unwanted.

He can’t imagine losing that.

“Nothing’s going to change,” Aster says fiercely, kissing Jack’s head, stroking strong, paint-stained fingers through snow-pale hair. Jack will miss the heat of his skin, his greying hair and strong features. He’ll miss the sideburns and the long legs and the shoulders he holds onto like a lifeline.

Aster carries him back to bed, curls around him protectively like he’s always done, and Jack falls asleep like that, clutching as hard as he can and fearing the day.

.

He sits with Aster before the species reassignment therapy. They’re holding hands, because they both need the comfort.

“You’re the only thing I’ve got, Frostbite,” Aster murmurs. “I’m not going to let anything change.”

Jack looks up. The hand holding his tightens. If the moment weren’t so serious, he’d laugh, because hospital gowns look so silly.

“I’m not going to let it, either,” Jack assures him. Aster gives him a smile, a warm, affectionate smile that Jack’s always been able to stare at forever, and then the doctor comes in, followed by a male nurse with a wheelchair.

“Ready, Mr Bunnymund?” he asks.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Aster replies, his voice a mixture of anticipation and foreboding. Jack actually does chuckle this time, kisses him on the cheek. The doctor and the nurse, to his relief, don’t even spare them a second glance.

“I’ll be right here,” Jack promises. “Good luck.”

“She’ll be apples,” Aster says confidently, his lips twitching.

Jack goes with him as far as the doors of the genetic chamber room. He folds his arms, bites his lip, and waves. Aster gives him a wink in reply, and now, all Jack can do is wait.


	2. Chapter 2

At first, Jack paces. He chews his thumbnails past the quick, heedless of the pain. He stares at the wall, he sighs, he stares at the floor. He heads to the vending machine in the corner and spends five whole minutes trying to choose something he’ll never be able to keep down. His stomach’s a writhing mass of nerves, he can’t stop his leg from twitching. Every time he glances at the clock, only a few minutes seem to have passed. He can see the nurses giving him dirty looks.

Eventually he pulls out the book he brought, but he can’t even concentrate on _A Dance with Dragons_. He places it to the side, leans back, and prepares for a long wait.

He wonders what Aster will be like once he’s out of the chamber. How much will he have changed? Will he be taller, darker, a complete stranger or still himself, just… different?

He can’t imagine it, in all honestly. He’ll see it when it comes, he supposes.

In the end, he curls up on the bench and falls into an uneasy, agitated sleep.

.

He’s woken up by the same doctor from before, who’s smiling. That’s a good sign. Jack sits up, rubs his eyes and doesn’t even bother with his hair.

“Everything went ok?” he asks, his voice like gravel in the back of his throat.

“See for yourself,” the doctor says, leading Jack to Aster’s room. He needs a moment to compose himself before he enters. A deep breath, a hand run through his hair, and he walks cautiously in.

Ok, it’s… he doesn’t know how to describe it. All he can do is laugh nervously and _stare_.

Aster looks pretty tired, but he gives Jack an obvious smile, lopsided and so perfectly _Aster_ it’s painful. And Jack smiles back, automatically, even though he _can’t stop staring_.

He’s still handsome, that’s for sure, and Jack wonders whether that says more about his tastes or the depth of his affection. He’ll analyse that later. For now, he just takes in the ears, the fur-covered arms, the paws, the huge feet (which actually look adorable where they poke out from under the sheets), the nose, the whiskers ( _whiskers!_ )… did he mention the _ears_?

He slowly wanders towards the bed, sits down, lets his jaw drop a little, covers his mouth. “Wow,” he murmurs. Aster laughs, and it’s still the same laugh as ever, which is such a relief Jack trembles with it. Aster stares at his own han- paw. It’s a _paw_. It takes a lot to clench it closed, his fingers trembling violently.

“It’ll take a while for that to go away,” the doctor says, and Jack almost jumps. He hadn’t noticed he was still there. “And we’ll need to see how your diet has changed. I can give you the number of a good instinct suppression class, and your physiotherapy will start soon. It’s not a quick process, a species reassignment.”

Aster nods, and he looks so proud and determined that maybe Jack falls a little in love again. Because… it’s still Aster. 

“I’ll leave you two alone, I’m sure we can discuss all the details tomorrow,” the doctor says, taking his leave.

When they are alone again, Aster turns to look at Jack again, smiling and his eyes… they’re exactly the same. They’re still that vibrant green they’ve always been, warm and full of affection. And Jack is reassured.

“You look… different,” he murmurs, chuckling. Aster joins in, holding out his paw, and Jack takes it. The fur is short, coarse, a dark, stormy grey, the pads black with a texture like buttery leather, weird, because rabbits don’t have paw pads. There are claws there, sheathed, sharp at the tips. From the wrist down the fur grows softer and lighter, it feels nicer to run his hands through, but Aster makes a face.

“Gotta go with the grain, Frostbite,” he says. Jack jerks his head up, eyes wide, because he’s just realised this is the first time Aster’s spoken since he entered the room. His voice… oh, it’s still exactly the same, too. Still rich and rough and _hot_ , the accent still thick and perfect on his ears, enough to make Jack shiver slightly.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, flushing slightly. “Just…” He stills his hands halfway to Aster’s face. “C-can I?” Better to ask permission, right? Aster, paws still trembling, takes Jack’s hands in a weak grip and presses them to his broad, furry cheeks.

_Dear God._

The fur is even softer here, and all Jack can do is touch, run his fingers through it. He gives a slight tug on the whiskers, which earns him a reproachful twitch from them. The eyebrows haven’t changed much, still thick and expressive, and Jack can still see Aster in this face. He’s still in every twitch and tic, in every grin and frown, recognisable.

“Show me the teeth,” he urges, and Aster complies with a familiar roll of the eyes. Aster’s always had a slight overbite, and now it’s just really pronounced. The second pair of incisors is a little weird, but not unexpected. The fur around his mouth is shorter, like that of his paws, but much smoother.

“What are you thinking about?” Aster asks.

“Wondering how we’re going to kiss,” Jack says absently, studying Aster’s mouth. It’s elastic enough to easily form words and expressions, so…

“Wanna give it a burl?”

Jack looks up, raises an eyebrow. Why the hell not?

He leans forward, closes his eyes, and leaves Aster to do the rest. It’s… still Aster, he could tell Aster’s kisses in a million, but it’s still bizarre to be kissing a creature with fur instead of lips. It’s not bad, but it’ll take a while to get used to.

When they pull apart, they look each other in the eyes for a long time. Jack’s hands fall to Aster’s shoulders, where the fur is thick, whiter and glorious, the kind of fur that you want to rub your face in because it feels so good. He’s stroked a few rabbits at petting zoos, and Aster’s fur is no different. He reaches up, hiding a mischievous grin, and pecks Aster on the nose.

“You can’t make me stop calling you Bun-Bun, now,” he says cheekily. Aster scoffs at him and drags him closer, though not very firmly, giving the weakness of his limbs. He holds Jack against his chest, places his chin on his head and sighs.

“I don’t have to leave, do I?” Jack asks warily, kicking off his All-stars and tucking his legs up beneath him. He doesn’t want to move now he’s comfortable, back where he belongs, even though the feeling of soft fur against his cheek is something he’d never imagined.

“Nah, got it all sorted out,” Aster reassures him. And they fall asleep like that, together, like they always do.

.

Aster’s rehabilitation starts two days after his species reassignment therapy. He looks exhausted when Jack visits him in the evening, massaging his huge feet while he grumbles under his breath.

“Hey, babe,” Jack says, throwing his bag in the chair and bouncing as he sits on the bed. Aster grunts a greeting, wincing as he slowly stretches his legs out. “Want some help with that?” Jack asks. He’s given a look that’s quite relieved, and he lets Aster lean back as he takes the huge paw in his lap and rubs, hard, with his thumbs. He’s secretly wanted to touch them for two days, and now he has the perfect excuse to do so. The pads are rather the same as his hands’, if larger and already slightly rougher. The fur is paler, but coarser, and thicker. He has claws here too, which Jack studies closely, touching the tips tentatively.

He continues with his massage, humming some earworm he heard on the radio at work, glancing at Aster every now and again. His boyfriend’s eyes are closed and he finally looks relaxed.

“Your arms seem stronger already,” Jack muses quietly, unwilling to disturb him but wanting to talk. Aster hums.

“Yeah. Doctor says it’s good I was already fit, means rehab’ll go quicker.” He yawns, and it’s far more rabbit-like than Jack had expected. It throws him for a moment, and his hands still, long enough that Aster opens an eye and raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Snowflake?”

Jack shakes his head, he shakes his hands as if they’re cramping from the massage, and goes back to his work, taking the other paw now. “I hope they’re not overworking you,” he says warningly. “Or asses’ll be kicked.”

Aster chuckles, settles in a little bit more. “Ah, well, I’ll tell you if they are,” he promises, yawning again. “Can’t wait to see you go mad and start threatening people, that’s always fun.”

It’s then that the nurse comes bustling in with Aster’s evening meal. Jack makes a face.

“Salad?” he exclaims, aghast. Aster shrugs, sitting up a bit more and tugging up his pillow so he can settle better. The nurse gives Jack the stink-eye as she leaves, which is rather disheartening.

“I think we’ll be getting that a lot,” Jack muses gloomily. Aster makes a strange, loud grinding noise and glares at the door through which the nurse disappeared.

“Bitch,” he mutters. Jack snorts his laughter and squeeze Aster’s toes affectionately. “Anyway, doctor says I probably won’t be able to digest meat anymore.”

Jack makes a face. “I’m not going veggie for you, Peter Cottontail. Meat tastes way too good.” He adds a lewd wink, just for good measure, and Aster makes a sound halfway between an affectionately incredulous snort and a laugh. Then he seems to realise the pet name.

“Peter Cottontail?” he echoes, shaking his head in disbelief. Jack smirks.

“I got more. Benjamin Bunny, Hop Hop, Thumper, Mr Skipperdoo, Easter Bunny…”

Aster’s expression is priceless. It screams of deadpan exasperation. Jack wishes his camera wasn’t in his bag on the chair by the bed, too far away to reach. He’ll have to make do with committing it to memory.

“Would you prefer Skippy, the Bush Kangaroo?” he enquires innocently.

“I’m never telling you about my childhood ever again,” Aster grumbles. Jack just laughs, makes his way up the bed and kisses Aster on the nose. He has a feeling it’s going to become their new _thing_ , like forehead kisses were their old _thing_. It’s lucky Aster can’t resist his self-proclaimed puppy-like charm for long, because now he has an arm round Jack’s shoulders, and Jack’s curled against his side, and all’s well except for the fact that his favourite hoodie’s going to be covered in rabbit fur.

“You know what I was just thinking?” Jack says after a while, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing again. Aster hums in acknowledgement, blessedly ignorant. “Y’know what they say about guys with big feet…”

Aster pushes him off the bed.

.

Saturday is when Sandy, Kozmotis, North and Tooth come to visit for the first time. Tooth is the only one who doesn’t need to take a moment to get to terms with it. She chirps her congratulations and offers Aster some sugar-free snacks, hovering around like a mother hummingbird. She straightens the sheets, comments on the lovely colour Aster’s fur is, and then snaps at the other three men she came with.

“Really! It’s just _Aster_! I haven’t even known him as long as you have!” She places her hands on her hips and scowls at them. Even Kozmotis looks suitably guilty.

“I take it all went well, then?” North asks, sitting in the chair by the bed and smiling. Aster nods.

“Yep, without a hitch. A month for physiotherapy and I’ll be home before spring.”

Jack gives him a broad grin from his cross-legged perch on the edge of the bed.

_What was it like?_ Sandy signs, expression curious.

“Can’t remember much of it, really,” Aster replies thoughtfully. “I was under most of the time, didn’t feel anything. Last thing I remember seeing was the inside of the chamber, a glass window and that’s it. Woke up like this.” He shrugs apologetically. Sandy shakes his head with a smile.

“It’s… bizarre,” Kozmotis remarks. “You still look exactly the same, just… like a _rabbit_.” He leans forward, studying Aster with great concentration from the end of the bed. “Eerie,” he mutters under his breath. Jack scowls, and Aster just rolls his eyes.

“Right, right, got the message, pom.” He waves Kozmotis away irritably. “Right, so… anyone else want to say something positive and constructive?”

“How about the fact we brought you food?” North suggests, lifting up a basket and waving it.

“What’s in it?” Jack asks warily. “He can’t have meat or fish, and we’re still on the fence with dairy products and eggs.”

“Calm down, _Mum_ ,” Aster scoffs, taking the basket and sorting through it anyway, muttering ‘yes’ and ‘no’ at intermittent intervals. North looks vaguely disappointed, which earns him a pat on the shoulder from his girlfriend, at least. 

“So, how is rehabilitation?” Kozmotis asks, peeling off his greatcoat and folding it over the end of the bed.

“Ace,” Aster says, very interested in the bottle of home-brewed vodka North has brought. Jack pulls it out of his paw and places it out of Aster’s reach, much to the latter’s exasperation. “Mostly just stretching, then faffing about on those bars, and that’s it. I’m in good shape so they say I’m adapting quickly.”

“Have you started the instinct suppression classes, yet?” Kozmotis continues, and he asks this question very seriously.

“Not ‘til next week,” Aster replies, equally serious.

They end up leaving an hour later, when things start getting a little too noisy between Aster, North and Tooth and the nurse pokes his head in to tell them off.

.

They order new clothes for Aster over the internet. Jack takes his measurements, and thank God there are decent things in the online shops, like jeans and t-shirts and all things you take for granted when your body shape is basic Homo Sapiens. They even have band shirts and leather jackets, which Aster is happy about. Jack laughs.

“What would you do without your Acca Dacca tees, hm?” he teases. “Hell, what would _I_ do without your Acca Dacca tees? What would I wear to bed?” He pretends to be seriously baffled by this, as if it’s a life-changing query.

“Nothing?” Aster suggests hopefully. Jack blushes and pushes at him, huffing as Aster laughs. He ends up glaring at the screen as Aster scrolls through, humming softly.

“I like that jacket,” he remarks. “It’s like the one you’ve already got.”

The jacket in question is a sandy colour, suede, with dark laces at the wrists and shoulders. Jack’s always found it pretty awesome, because it suits Aster very well. He’s had it for years, since before they met, and he was wearing it the day Jack first saw him in that diner, three years ago. Jack still remembers the way he swallowed and nearly over-filled some woman’s cup, staring at legs a mile long and a five o’clock shadow he wanted to rub his cheek against. He’d been smitten, stupidly so, and had gotten tongue-tied when he’d had to take Aster’s order.

He chances a look at Aster as his lover grumbles over the size of the keys and how they don’t really work well with his new fingers. It’s only then that the change truly sinks in, seeping under his skin and hitting his brain like a sledgehammer.

Aster is… _nothing like he was_. And he can’t get out of there fast enough.

He stumbles to his feet, ignoring Aster’s concerned question. He hitches on a mockery of a smile, gathers his things and says he has to go home, he promised Sandy something, he should do it before it gets too late, and visiting hours are almost up anyway.

He doesn’t kiss Aster on the way out.

At home, he sits in the middle of their bed, a futon Aster is far too attached to, photos strewn around him like a peacock’s fan of memories. He wraps his arms around his bare knees, staring at every single one, as he makes noises that are embarrassing for a twenty-one-year-old to make. He wipes away furious tears, burns the moments in the photos into his mind and relives them all, one by one: the trip to San Francisco, the one to New York, the farewell party for Katherine and Lucas when they left for Europe, Aster sketching, Aster painting, Aster dozing on the couch… He picks up one of the first he ever took, when he was young and stupid and selfies seemed like a clever thing. Three dates in and he was already in love, _they_ were already in love, pressed together to fit into the tiny frame and grinning like it wasn’t a cloudy day in suburban Pennsylvania.

It had been his phone wallpaper until it broke and he realised the idiocy of owning an iPhone, and his profile pic on Facebook for six months. He remembered the encouraging comments of his friends and the not-so-nice comments of jerks he’d known at school. He remembers when his parents found out, and demanded explanations, and he’d given them. He remembers the shouting and the accusations and the harsh words, the disappointment and “you’re no son of mine!”. He remembers stuffing his duffel bag haphazardly and barging from the door, eyes filled with tears.

He remembers sleeping on Elsa’s couch, on a mattress on the floor of Merida’s bedsit. He remembers getting a job and paying what he could towards their bills, despite the protests. He remembers Aster bursting in after a whole year of this, furious and demanding why Jack hadn’t come to him first. They’d had their first argument, but also their first heart-to-heart. Jack still remembers the way Aster held him, told him everything was alright, the way he hadn’t minded getting snot all over his shirt. He can still feel those warm, strong arms around him, the kiss on the top of his head.

He remembers taking his stuff to Aster’s, carving out a niche in the closet and the bathroom and the kitchen, finding places which his stuff hasn’t left for a year and a half. His toothbrush is still in the cup on the cabinet, his sugar-packed cereal still in its dwelling in the cupboard above the microwave, his clothes still tossed on the floor of the bedroom.

There’s still a sketch of him on the wall in the den.

Slowly he wipes away his tears. He gathers the photos, finds an old shoebox and puts them in as if they are the greatest treasures he’s ever held. Then he closes the lid, writes _BEFORE_ in black marker and places the shoebox on a shelf in the closet, hidden enough. Once that is done, he crawls into bed, turns off the light, and sleeps.

And the Aster he dreams about is the new one, not the old one.

.

It takes every scrap of courage in him to enter the hospital the next day. He and Aster just look at each other, and he can taste the hurt on the air, the guardedness. He wonders if Aster can sense the mortification. Aster is afraid, and Jack is ashamed of himself. Don’t they go well together?

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and Aster visibly flinches, not in shock, but in pain. Then his gaze turns resigned, turns _away_ , and he says nothing for a long time. Jack scuffs his feet on the floor, rubs his arm. He never can stand still for too long, he fidgets like a child, full of nervous energy.

“Shouldn’t you be going?” Aster says, his voice toneless, empty. It cuts Jack like a knife, because Aster thinks Jack’s going to leave, that he can’t do this, and it’s clear that he’d been expecting it.

Jack strides forward, wraps his arms around Aster, and feels the other turn rigid against him, not a twitch of a nose or an ear, a statue.

“I’m sorry I left like that yesterday,” Jack clarifies in Aster’s shoulder. “I was scared, I was stupid, and I hadn’t realised what this really was.” He pulls back, gaze locked on Aster’s, which is wary now, with a glint of hope. “I… forgot just how much I _love_ you.”

Aster stares. Jack lowers his head, humiliated. He takes Aster’s paws, holds them, slides sideways onto the bed so his legs still dangle.

“I’m going to be here. I’m not going to run again. I’m not going to be scared anymore.” He raises his head again, and this time his expression is determined. “I hurt you, and I’m disgusted with myself. I swear I’ll _never_ do that again.” He’s said it, now he has to _prove_ it.

Aster is still for a moment longer, his face mellowing into such gratitude Jack is humbled beyond belief, and they throw their arms around each other.

“I love you,” Jack says. He tries to imbibe the intensity of his feelings into those three little words, even though he knows it’ll never be enough.

“Thought you’d gone for good,” Aster mumbles, squeezing gently. “I just… I didn’t stop to think how much this changes everything. I didn’t think about how much it could affect you. Only thought about myself, as usual. Forgot we have to work on this together. I’m sorry, Frostbite.”

“I love you,” Jack replies fiercely. They stay like that for what seems like an age of the Earth itself, wrapped in each other.  
.

Jack has Thursdays off, and one of the parcels of clothes has arrived. T-shirts, jeans and track pants which miraculously aren’t ugly, hallelujah. Now Aster can wear something other than innumerable one-size-fits-all monstrosities they call hospital gowns. He’d been going to ask if they had one with giraffes.

Jack thinks it’s awesome he doesn’t need underwear anymore. It takes him a moment to realise how bad that actually sounded. He suppresses that thought, because it might go to _naughty places_ and that’s not the best destination for his mind when he’s using public transportation. The old lady sitting opposite him might whack him with her cane.

He doesn’t find Aster in his room. Which means he’s probably in the gym for his daily rehab session. It takes him half an hour and three pit-stops to ask for directions until he finally gets there. He pokes his head in, and sees two humans going through the motions with physiotherapists, although he’s not quite sure what the motions are. There are only two anthros: one is Aster, the other is a female physiotherapist who seems to be some sort of feline. Aster’s on the bars, supporting himself with his arms and taking slow steps along a dark blue mat. He has an expression of great concentration and determination, and when he reaches the end of the bars he lets out a breath of relief.

“Awesome!” says the physiotherapist, clapping her paws. Her ears are tufted and she hasn’t got much of a tail: a lynx, perhaps? Aster drops himself on the pile of mats next to the bars with a sigh and a weary grin. “This is great progress, you know,” she goes on cheerfully. “If you keep this up, you won’t even need to take additional sessions once you’re home!”

Jack decides that now is the time to head over. “Does that mean I won’t be able to get him out of the house? We’ll end up killing each other!”

Both anthros turn, the physiotherapist’s ears twitching warily, but Aster beams at him, and Jack can’t help but smile back, broad and warm. Then the physiotherapist seems to realise something.

“Oh! Oh- _ho_!” She nudges Aster conspiratorially. “So this is the infamous Jack I’ve heard so much about!”

Jack can’t help but blush at that. Even Aster looks somewhat guilty, if the tilt of his ears and the twitch of his whiskers is anything to go by. Jack can’t quite read the more lagomorphic expressions just yet, but he’s trying.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she says, holding out her paw and shaking Jack’s hand. “I’m Sue.”

“Jack, obviously,” Jack replies, grinning. “Thanks for… this.” He waves a hand, encompassing Aster, the gym and basically everything that doesn’t involve the doctors. She waves a dismissive paw with a smile.

“It’s my job, and Aster basically trains himself.” She laughs. “So, when will we be seeing you here?”

It’s meant well, Jack knows, but he meets the question with stunned silence all the same. Aster’s no different, wincing. Sue catches on pretty quickly, because she gasps, presses a paw to her forehead and groans.

“Oh, my _God_ , I am _so_ sorry, I had no idea you weren’t… I’m sorry.”

Jack grins weakly. “No, it’s ok, don’t worry, I can, uh, get why you’d ask that,” he mumbles. He and Aster exchange a quick glance.

“Sorry, it’s just… well, it’s not often you get an interspecies romance.” She chuckles weakly. “It’s unusual.”

“Yeah, we’d noticed,” Aster mutters darkly. The atmosphere grows thick and awkward, a silence bloated with the unspoken accusations of people who are sick and tired of being told they’re different, and Jack clears his throat when it all gets too much. He hates silences like these.

“Guess what, Bun!” he begins jovially. “You can officially be dressed like a decent person again. I mean, not like I was complaining before, hospital gowns are revealing, but… yeah, I felt for your non-existent dignity.”

Aster shoves him as Sue sniggers into her paw.

“We’re pretty much done for the day, so I’ll leave you two boys to it,” she says graciously, taking her leave. Jack wheels Aster back up to Aster’s room, resisting the urge to go all Scrubs and do a wheelchair race with an old man and his granddaughter who share the elevator with them, and Aster pulls on the pants with great relief.

“Are they ok?” Jack asks, biting his lip. They don’t look that bad for just track pants. Aster stretches his legs and nods.

“Not too tight on the fur. Good room for movement, too.”

Jack tries not to stare. Somehow, seeing Aster shirtless, albeit covered with fur, is pretty… hot. “I brought you some t-shirts, too,” he mutters, pulling one out with a triumphant ‘ha!’. Aster pulls it on, rolls his shoulders and tugs on his arms, and he nods again.

“Ace!” he exclaims. “Finally.”

Jack takes his usual place on the edge of the bed and talks about Tumblr. He’s been wondering whether he should talk about his relationship with Aster. Maybe an ask blog, some shit like that? Aster shrugs and picks up his sketchpad.

“S’up to you,” he says, cracking his knuckles before starting erratic movements all over the page. It seems he’s had to relearn how to draw to his best abilities all over again. “Got nothing to hide, after all.”

Jack nods, pouting pensively. He stays two hours, until visiting hours are over, and then he leaves, with a kiss on the mouth and a promise to be back tomorrow. As he heads outside to the bus stop, he overhears a familiar laugh. It sounds like Sue, he should probably say goodbye… He stops in his tracks when he hears what she says.

“Know that hot guy in room 128? The rabbit dude?” she asks. There’s a murmur of affirmation from a few voices. Jack can see them huddled under an awning, three anthros, one a bull, one a cat, and Sue. They’re all smoking, and the first two have nurse’s scrubs.

“Easy on the eyes,” the cat nurse says, smirking. “Pity he’s gay and taken.”

“Yeah, well, I met the other half today,” Sue says, relishing her words as if they are absolutely delicious. “Turns out he’s _human_!”

The cat nurse gasps. The bull says nothing.

“No, really? _Still_ , or…?”

“No, a _human_ human!”

“That’s some kinky shit right there!” the cat nurse says fervently. The bull snorts.

“Yeah, because it’s your business what other people do in bed,” he says gruffly, and Jack is silently grateful that at least someone isn’t making a mockery of them. Sue stubs her cigarette out on the wall before throwing it in the bushes, blowing her smoke into the cold, early March air.

“Dude, come on…”

Jack doesn’t want to hear anymore. He turns on his heel and leaves, feeling livid. Can’t anyone just accept what they have and move on without passing judgement? For God’s sake, what are he and Aster doing that’s so wrong?

He wonders about it all the way home, feeling miserable, and he’s grateful when Tooth and Sandy drag him out for pizza and conversation. It’s nice to be with people who understand and don’t care, don’t judge. It’s like a dysfunction junction, Jack muses. All six of them have their own issues, their own problems, and together they make a decent sort of family, able to hold the others up through them.

There’s himself, the twink who seems to age slower, with the freakishly low body temp and the naturally white hair, who’s twenty-one but looks barely legal. There’s Aster, and, well, he’s now a giant rabbit. There’s Sandy, mute, a dwarf, never truly wanted, not even for his amazing books. North, the ex-juvenile delinquent, the one who fought tooth and nail to get out of the Mafiya unscathed, a whole school of hard knocks to unlearn. Kozmotis, a psychiatrist with a decided lack of empathy, a daughter and a wife already lost, alone and lonely and never admitting it. And Tooth, a hybrid, an anomaly in the natural world. They’re all weirdoes in their own ways.

Don’t they all just complete each other?

He listens to Tooth’s voice, eyes glazing over at Sandy’s signing. He hums, nods, not truly listening or reading. It’s enough to be here, in the tiny pizzeria they always go to, bathed in the lull of conversation and the affection of friends, and forget the shit the world’s heaping on them.

.

When Jack walks into Aster’s room three days later, Aster’s skyping. Jack can hear a half-familiar female voice with a much more familiar accent, thick and broad like Aster’s own. He waves silently, Aster waves back, and there’s a demand to see.

Jack sits on the bed next to Aster, and grins at his mother-in-law in everything but legal terms. “Hi, Mrs B!” he says cheerfully. Mrs Bunnymund (“Daisy, Jackie dear, call me Daisy!”) beams back at him. She’s still the same as ever, even through the bleached grain of the webcam: a pleasant, warm face, the same eyes as Aster, as blond and pale as her husband is dark as night.

“It’s nice to see you, Jackie dear,” she says, and Jack can tell she means it. “How are you?”

“Pretty good,” Jack replies, because he is. “Hey, what do you think of the ears?” he asks, reaching up and tweaking one gently – he’s learnt how sensitive they are, and Aster does not take kindly to them being yanked. Mrs Bunnymund laughs.

“I think they’re very smart,” she says proudly, and once again Jack’s grateful Aster has such a wonderful woman for a mother. She beats his own, that’s for sure. “Of course, I’d think he was handsome whatever he looked like.” She winks, makes Aster splutter, and Jack laughs at the whole pantomime. “I have to go, dears. Aster, love, remember, you’ll always be my son, and I’ll always be proud of you.”

The call closes, and Aster turns away. Jack knows just what he’s trying to hide – a thirty-two-year-old man’s man like himself can’t be caught _crying_ – and he snuggles into Aster’s shoulder, and once again he thanks the universe for just how awesome Aster’s mother is.

.

The rest of the month travels more or less along the same lines. Jack visits Aster, the others visit Aster, Jack works, he gets deliveries of necessities for Aster’s new life, and they begin to iron out the kinks this change has made. They start turning this into something new and bright, something beautiful and sacred, and Jack likes it. He likes the novelty and the routine all rolled into one, the new and the old, the perfectly imperfect.

Until, finally, thirty days after his admission, walking on his own, head held high, Aster leaves the hospital. He takes a deep breath of the tasteless air, wrinkling his nose at the smell of exhaust pipes, asphalt and choked vegetation. North is waiting for them, just North, standing beside his large red Range Rover they call the Sleigh, and he takes them home again.


End file.
